


on a clear day i can see you forever

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Ragnarok (TV Series)
Genre: Angst, Connected Ficlets, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: Laurits doesn’t get to see Magne around at home much. He’s always going out for runs but coming back without having broken a sweat and Laurits almost feels jealous of the fresh Edda air that gets to wrap around Magne, sweep around him and make his cheeks flush with the cold.(interconnected ficlets of Laurits being gay in the faraway town of Edda.)
Relationships: Laurits Seier/Magne Seier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	on a clear day i can see you forever

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the name of Lindstrøm's 2019 EP. Felt fitting for the Norway theme.
> 
> at the time of writing this, I hadn't seen episode 6 yet, so it's based on events that happened before the finale ~
> 
> hope u enjoy

Laurits didn’t say anything in the car on the drive towards Edda, but the closer they got, the more things felt _right_. He was coming home. 

* * *

Dad’s sled leans against the side of the cupboard. Underneath the pretty patterns carved into the cupboard doors, Magne is rifling through a toolbox. Magne hasn’t yet noticed Laurits’ presence, so he leans against the doorway and enjoys the view of his blond haired brother. He doesn’t get many moments like this. Ones where his mother isn’t hovering around Magne like he’s a four year old with a gun off safety, or even at school where there’s the eyes of gossips to worry about. Laurits has heard every rumour about himself that’s ever been shared around at any school he’s gone to, but there’s one secret that he knows how to keep under wraps. 

“What’s up with the nazi symbol?” He says finally, startling Magne. 

Magne drops his glance down at the saw with a red carving in the handle. “It’s grandfather’s old monogram. An S rune.”

“Sweet. I thought mum didn’t want you to play with tools.”

“I’m not playing with tools,” Magne says. He stands up and grabs Dad’s sled. “My bed is too short, I want to extend it.”

Laurits scoffs. “With a sled? Didn’t that belong to Dad?”

“Yeah.” 

Magne looks at him. Laurits can’t maintain eye contact and lowers his gaze, only to take in the shape of Magne’s hands around the sled. He has to look away, but he looks up into Magne’s eyes. He can’t look away. 

“Do you remember how he’d pull you up the mountains?”

“I was always cold,” Laurits responds. 

Magne grins and it’s catching. That smile goes so far, Magne has no idea how warm he makes Laurits feel. 

“Do you think about him ever?”

Laurits laughs. “Nah. I was so little.”

Laurits pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up, the warmth of his lighter incomparable to the way Magne warms his heart. And then they hear mum coming and it’s like she knows when Laurits is having these sick thoughts. He’s putting out his cigarette and feeling like shit and having fleeting thoughts of what if she had caught him ogling his own brother or what if he hadn’t laughed off Magne’s sincerity and responded with as much tenderness, by hugging him, by kissing him, by showing Magne how much he loves him. Would she kick him out? Would he end up living like that dude in the RV across the street? Or in the mountains themselves? 

It doesn’t seem so bad, because he would have had a taste of what his heart wants, at least.

* * *

He’s meant to hate Edda or something. He’s meant to love the beauty of the town but he’s meant to hate living there, being stuck there, being so face to face with the rich amongst the poor and he’s meant to be having a hard time adjusting to a new school, again. That’s how the movies go but he doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t even have to try to make it work. It just does. Something in the water of this town that goes down easy for him where it acts like poison for others. He’s doing alright, but he’s aware that Magne isn’t. 

He realises that if he didn’t steal the seat that Magne was going for on their first day of school or if he didn’t pretend that mum was in trouble the day Isolde died, maybe Magne wouldn’t be as fucked up as he is but if he didn’t do all of that… if he didn’t mess with Magne… if he goes out of his way to be _nice_ to Magne… he’ll start thinking he deserves something back. He’ll start thinking he deserves kindness when he fucking doesn’t. Not with the way he thinks about his brother. So he plays tricks on Magne and fucks with him and earns protection from Magne when mum is about to walk in on him smoking or earns trust when Magne comes to him for help or earns friendship when Magne joins him for dinner at the Jutul family’s house. 

He bites into his pillow every night with his music blasting in his ears and his knees to his chest because he tries being a dick to Magne and still gets loved. It drives him crazy thinking about how different things could be if he was _purposefully_ nice to Magne. Things aren’t going to flip and have Magne start being a dick to him, that’s not in Magne’s nature. No. He could be _nicer_. He could start treating Laurits like he does when he has a crush on a girl like Gry or Isolde before Magne found out she was gay, and Laurits just can’t entertain it any further. He can’t - refuses - to imagine how happy they could be because he’ll see it in his mind’s eye and it could seem real. He’ll want it too much and he already wants it too much. 

* * *

It’s better to go on pushing Magne away. He tries. He’s not all too good at it. He thought, at least, that Magne would blame him for Isolde’s death, but he didn’t. Part of Laurits wishes Magne did because he feels so fucking bad for what happened. He stood back and watched Fjor piss on Isolde’s memorial and showed a bemused facade but he knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right by Isolde, or Magne, but he didn’t do anything to stop Fjor, because if Magne ever found out, maybe it would help Magne hate him. Laurits needs Magne to hate him. 

* * *

He doesn’t get to see Magne around at home much. He’s always going out for runs but coming back without having broken a sweat and Laurits almost feels jealous of the fresh Edda air that gets to wrap around Magne, sweep around him and make his cheeks flush with the cold. 

They’d never spent as much time together as they did in Edda. Edda, this wild, mythical place up north where their father died all those years ago. But back again, where everything is starting to feel right and good, Magne is further and further away from him. An isolated town, isolated brother. 

Laurits had danced with Saxa and Fjor and he hadn’t known why or even how he’d done it. It had felt like a dream. But Magne had done it too, at the Jutul family house. He’d danced like he was possessed and Laurits wonders if it had made Magne as afraid as he was, to witness his brother move like that. To scream like that. 

Does Magne hear what he shouts into his pillow, what he asks the gods to never give him? He can’t, he doesn’t. Surely. Surely he doesn’t. He shows no signs of it. Magne is absolutely unaware. 

The sound of a heavy dining room table breaking in two echoes in his ears as he thinks about Magne _knowing_. 

* * *

The house was empty when they moved in. Mostly. There was still a bunch of stuff in the attic that Turid wouldn’t touch. Laurits had had to jam a knife in a lock to get the attic door open so that he could climb up and see what’s there. That’s where he had found his mum’s old clothes that he’d worn to the dance. There was a bunch of dad’s stuff too and he would have opened them because yeah, he was too little to remember his dad all too much.

He still goes up there even now that he’s been through all of his mum’s stuff and shoved all of the good things in his wardrobe. Dad’s things loom like night creatures under the yellow attic light. Exposed and dusty and bottled up, like him, collecting dust the more time he spends up there. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for anymore. Part of him wants to know why he’s like this. Maybe there are hints in their family tree. But wouldn’t it be sickening to find out, or wouldn’t it put him at peace? 

He goes out on the mountain climb, up the mountain that Isolde died on. He watches his brother climb so far ahead of everyone else with Gry. He embarresses Gry in front of everyone by making Magne confess that he loves her, because Magne’s a stupid idiot, an honest, kindhearted dumbass who would rather speak his heart than lie. 

(Imagine if he knew) (Imagine if he knew) 

And Laurits watches Gry and Fjor go up to the peak and pretended to be trying to find reception when he was actually watching his brother go after that girl. The curved orange chute had stuck out like a sore thumb against the green landscape, just like the blood of the dog that Magne had killed and curved over a rock. 

They never talked about it because although it doesn’t make sense to Laurits, it’s best that Magne thinks Laurits thinks he’s lost it. Clearly, Magne _has_ lost it but Laurits isn’t in a position to help. He can’t put himself there. He can’t offer a hand in case Magne takes it. In case Magne touches him. Just one touch. The tips of his fingers. The clasp of his shoulders. Magne’s hot breath on his neck. Laurits would combust. It would be the end of him. It would be the end of all that he has built, the entire kingdom of fear that wrought moats and trap doors and mines around his person, would fade away in Magne’s warmth. In his love. 

He can’t ever let that happen.


End file.
